


just the two of you

by eldritchIdeologist



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Fluff, M/M, POV Karkat Vantas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-30 10:17:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14494770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eldritchIdeologist/pseuds/eldritchIdeologist
Summary: You swallow thickly sweet and slow and push his name into his own mouth, exhale, inhale, push and pull in equal amounts. Something tantalizing in his grip, in his movements; something electric in the edges of your jaw and in your fingertips when you touch him.





	just the two of you

It’s just the two of you again, in the dark of the meteor, in the endless silence of it. Everyone else is gone or asleep or doing God knows what, and you don’t care - all you care for is the long press of him against you, his lips on yours and his hands pulling at your hair. There’s just the quiet hollowness of the room, something mundane about it, and the sound of your breathing and his in turn, the faint noise from whatever movie was playing on your husktop before he crawled into your lap and made your entire universe narrow down to him. 

  
“Fuck, _Dave--_ ” You swallow thickly sweet and slow and push his name into his own mouth, exhale, inhale, push and pull in equal amounts. Something tantalizing in his grip, in his movements; something electric in the edges of your jaw and in your fingertips when you touch him. And you’ve seen movies, you’ve read books, yes, but it was never like this. You never imagined you would feel it in your bones, in your blood, not like this, exhilarating and all-encompassing and far too much and not enough. Insatiable, you think, that’s what you are; you want to take and melt him into you and, judging by the way he bites down on your lip and gasps with the heat of it, so does he. 

“‘Sup, Kitkat,” he returns, breathless, and you can’t imagine how you ever stood away from him. It’s in the tilt of his smile, in the way he captchalogues his glasses and pushes his hair away from his face, in his eyes. It’s what makes you want to keep him forever, you think, with his stupid red cape and stupid red eyes and stupid red blood, matching you perfectly and impossibly. “You good?” 

You nod, helpless against the smile that takes over your face. 

“Yeah,” you say, swallowing again, against all odds still breathing even though you’re certain your lungs are filled with him. “Yeah.” Once you start repeating yourself, dazed, that’s when he knows he’s got you. You have no qualms about letting him know that. Not when he leans down and kisses the corner of your mouth and the tip of your nose and cradles your face in his hands, knowing that it flusters you and that you love it. That you love him. 

You might have had other plans just a few seconds ago, but all you want now is to hold him there and give him flowers and drink in the way his face will flush and he’ll struggle to find his words. 

“You sure? You seem a lil’ dazed to me, man,” he murmurs, smug and teasing and rumbling in that way his voice does when he’s especially pleased with himself. 

“And who’s fault is that?” You say, dragging your tongue over your lips where you can still taste him, locking your eyes with his because you know he can dish it out but can’t take it. The small snort he lets out and the way his arms rest snug around your shoulders feel like fulfillment. 

Then he kisses you again, and it feels like heaven. It feels like destiny, like purpose; it’s pressure and solid and there, in a way nobody ever has been before. In a way you can’t imagine anybody else. Your hands grip the back of his shirt and you pull him closer to you and he almost purrs into it, the only thing stopping him being that it’s physically impossible. 

You want to say it, then. You want to say it, in the dark and quiet, you want to take the words from where they’ve settled in the softness of your core, you want to whisper them into the infinitesimal space between you - but your heart thunders and your stomach clenches and instead you draw your eyebrows together and press into him with all your might. Maybe, you think, maybe I can show him instead of tell him. 

“You’re thinkin’ too loud,” Dave says, breaking the kiss, quiet and amused and lacking any kind of accusation. You kiss him short and quick and close-mouthed, the need for proximity clawing at your insides with the same amount of desperation that the fear used to when you’d go to sleep on Alternia and hope that you’d still be there in the morning.

“Well,” you start, not wanting to raise your voice despite the embarrassment inside you.  _ Say it,  _ you think. “I do everything too loud,” you say instead, making him laugh soft and light and free like he only does around you. You swallow. 

“Touché,” he rests his forehead against yours, which makes you have to go cross-eyed if you want to look at him properly, so instead you nudge your nose against his and close your eyes. You can feel the way his face shifts when he grins, and then he moves his head, rubs your noses together - something so affectionate and gentle it puts a lump in your throat. You’re sure you make some kind of noise; not because you hear it, but because Dave laughs again, and it’s the happiness in his voice that make something shudder inside you, something dislodge and free itself and it shows in the slump of your shoulders, in the wrap of your arms around his waist. 

You kiss him again, then, drag it out because you can. Because he lets you steal the smile from his lips and makes a small disgruntled noise when you nip at his mouth, your teeth much sharper than his own, and he bumps your head with his knuckles in warning. It gets a huff of a laugh out of you. 

It gets you to open your eyes, halfway, and look at him when you pull away from the kiss and whisper, “I love you.” Your voice trembles and you think, maybe, that he didn’t hear it, but then you hear the hitch in his breath and feel his hands still in your hair and he pulls his face away from yours so he can blink at you. You stare. There’s nothing else you can do, after all, not when he pins you there with those eyes.

You only let yourself exhale when he smiles again and his eyes flit away and it unwounds everything inside you. You only let your vocal cords work again when he moves back where he belongs, against your forehead, nudges his nose against yours, and says, “Love you too,” and kisses you.

“Asshole,” you grumble, but you’re smiling against his mouth, “I thought you were gonna abscond for a second, and then I would have had to drown myself in my own shit or jumped off the meteor or--” He presses a hand to your mouth. His shoulders shake with laughter. You love him.

“Don’t ruin the moment, you dick,” he says with a finality to it, and who are you to do anything but huff and nod and dive in for another kiss. 

You should have said it way earlier, you think, if it makes him attempt to get even closer to you than he is, despite the fact that you’re already pressed as close as possible. You wish, in the back of your mind, that you could captchalogue this moment, neat and tucked away so you can look at it later and keep it in your heart and burn it in your eyes. And then you forget all about thinking and wishes, because he opens his mouth and you open yours, and the rest is just for you two. The rest is for the silence of the meteor and the husktop and nobody else.

**Author's Note:**

> yoooo... uh yeah i got nothing to put here  
> hope u enjoyed i guess  
> peace
> 
> edit: tnx to the person in the comments who pointed out that i tagged this as the wrong pov lmao, its fixed now


End file.
